


Waste These Words (About a Girl)

by akire_yta



Category: Skippy - Fandom
Genre: AU, F/M, Genderswap, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-29
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kevin was dropped from her brothers' band for the crime of being a girl. Leaving to start a new life on her own terms in the Windy City, she meets a boy. A picto-fic about a girl. [SDS Little Bang, 2012]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Senior's kind of a dick in this one. Language warning. Fluff.
> 
> sparrow gave me pictures. I had a free weekend. This is what resulted. Yes, this is a comment!fic from the monthly picspam for July. Total AU featuring Empires and the rest of Chicago being awesome, Pete Wentz being Pete, and Bebe Rexha, bestest best friend. Beta read by the awesome sin_fuego, all other mistakes and Briticisms are my own :)
> 
> This fic got two bonus FST: details [over here](http://verbosemofo.livejournal.com/49132.html)

  
  
 

The apartment was shitty, barely better than a one-room hole, but it was the best that she could afford. The fact that it was up the keyboard stairs, as all the locals called them, was either the silver lining, or the shit frosting on the crap cake. It depended on the day.  
  
She had to climb the stairs back each day, telling herself as she lugged her small sack of cheap groceries or books from the library that it was okay, she was making it, she was her Own Person. The day the posters for Joe's solo album appeared, plastered on every flat surface between the bottom of the hill and the top, had been a Very Bad Day. She'd stood at the bottom of the Keyboard Stairs before trudging up, resisting the urge with every step to start ripping and tearing her way back down to bare concrete.  
  
That had definitely been a high-scorer on her own personal Shit sweepstakes.  
  
But the next morning, the sun had been shining and the air had been crisp and the local kids had drawn mustaches and horns on every copy of Joe's face. Kevin had grinned, bag light and mood lighter. She'd danced down the stairs, leaping from step to painted step in time with the music playing in her head. She'd even smiled at the guy in the hat, who'd raised his camera and taken her picture before waving back.  
  
Kevin slowed; it had been years, and they didn't look like paparazzi, but you could never be careful. Maybe someone had come looking for the self-exiled daughter of the famous family again. "Hi," camera-guy said, waving his camera. "Hope you don't mind, but the light was perfect." He flicked his fingers. "Lensflare!" He lifted the camera again.  
  
"Tell him to fuck off if you want," another voice wafted up to her, and Kevin leaned over the rail to see someone sitting on the lip of the concrete base, smoking a tiny dog-end. "He probably won't, but we have to be consistent if we're ever gonna get him trained."  
  
Kevin dropped the last few steps in time with the click of the camera shutter. "Who are you guys?"  
  
Smoking guy flicked away the last of his cigarette. "The idiot with the camera is Tom. He's trying to find inspiration..."  
  
"I've found my Muse, Mike!" Tom said, coming around, finger working the shutter.  
  
Mike calmly put his hand over the lens. "And I'm Mike. I'm here to laugh if he gets pepper-sprayed again."  
  
Kevin had to smile. "I'm Kevin."  
  
Tom had tugged his camera back from Mike's grip. "Can we keep you?"

Somehow, Kevin found herself just hanging out with Mike and Tom, and then Sean and Max, and slowly but surely her once microscopic social circle (Mrs Fraser who came in every Thursday and spent half an hour telling Kevin about her grandkids totally counted as a social circle!) started to expand.  
  
Besides, it was fun hanging out with Mike, watching Tom get into trouble in the search for the perfect shot. Which was how she found herself, on a Saturday afternoon, lying on the ground next to Mike, each of them holding one of Tom's ankles. "Your best friend is nuts," she told him.  
  
Mike grinned and tried to shake his hair out of his eyes. "Says the girl who followed us home despite said best friend doing his crazy photo-stalker routine."  
  
"Little more!" Tom called out, voice echoing and made resonant by the metal and stone of the grate.  
  
Kevin stretched, shoulders starting to burn. "Take the damned photo already, Conrad!" she called out, grinning as Tom just laughed at her.  
  
"So, umm," Mike said, wincing as a piece of grass tickled his nose. "Do you wanna come to Pete's gig tonight?"  
  
Kevin shrugged and ignored Tom's muffled orders. "Sure, cool, who else is coming?"  
  
Mike bit his lip. "I was hoping it could be just you and me," he said, not looking her in the eye.  
  
Kevin lifted her head to see if Tom had taken the picture yet. "I'm sure Max would wanna come, should we ask him too..."  
  
There was a groan from the grating. "He's trying to ask you out on a date!" Tom yelled. "Say yes so he'll stop gripping my damn leg so tight!"  
  
Kevin's head snapped around. Mike smiled, awkwardly, skin on his nose wrinkling, but he didn't deny it.  
  
Kevin was so surprised she let go of Tom's leg.  
  
Later, after they'd hauled Tom up, and he'd checked his camera for damage and they'd checked his face for the same, Kevin stood up before Mike with her hands on her hips. "Ask me properly," she snapped.  
  
Mike half-winced. "Kevin, would you like to go on a date with me tonight?" he asked, flinching a little pre-emptively.  
  
She held the scowl for a moment, then patted his head. "Meet me at the bottom of the stairs at eight." She skipped off, not even caring that she could hear the snap of Tom's shutter as he took a photo of her ass.

 

The first hard frost caught her by surprise. She was shivering, hunched up like a turtle in her thrift store coat that had seen better decades as she hurried down the street. Mike took one look at her and tsked. His fingers were warm on her wrist, calloused pads over her pulse, as he led her across the street and into the blessed warmth of the nearest Starbucks.  
  
She actually moaned as her muscles unclenched. "Latte?" Mike asked, already heading for the counter.  
  
"Chai, please, if they've got it," she told him, pausing for a second to admire the view before going to steal a pair of armchairs by the window. She blew on her frozen fingers and tucked her legs up under her, sitting sideways to watch the flow of people outside.  
  
"Chai latte for the gorgeous lady," Mike said, holding it out to her.  
  
Kevin felt her cheeks warm with more than just the heat of the nearby fireplace. "Thanks," she murmured, inhaling the scent as Mike sank down in the other chair. Neither of them said anything, just watching the world outside. It was comfortable, a moment of peace before they were back to worrying about bills, about the band Mike was trying to get together, and making it through to next payday without getting snowed in or evicted.  
  
The clock on the wall ticked over past the hour, and Mike sighed, like he too had just been enjoying the respite. "Come on, we better go, otherwise Sean will bitch about us making him wait in the cold."  
  
Kevin pulled up the zip on her coat as far as it would go, bracing herself to step into the cold. As they stepped back out onto the sidewalk, Mike casually found her hand and twined his warm fingers with hers. She leaned gratefully into his warmth as they set off down the street.

Kevin had made it two steps inside when she felt Tom's hands on her shoulders. "Mike, I'm stealing your girlfriend!" he bellowed into the house.

"Kev, if he gets fresh, kick him in the balls," came the shouted reply.  
  
"Who says get fresh anymore!" she heard Sean tease Mike, before Tom was steering her through into the tiny front room that was his bedroom. He didn't let go until he had guided her around the boxes of crap that hadn't been unpacked and probably still wouldn't be three moves down the line. He pushed her gently over to sit on a straight-backed chair set against a wall.  
  
Tom studied her thoughtfully. Kevin stuck out one leg, toe pointed, and tossed her hair. "Photograph me like one of your French ladies, Thomas," she purred in a truly dreadful accent.  
  
Tom grinned nervously. "Umm," he said, pointing at her jeans. "Would I really get a kick in the balls if I asked you to take those off?"  
  
Kevin froze and sat up. "Tom?"  
  
He held up his hand in peace offering, and turned to rummage through the crap on his desk. He held up a pen. "I saw this piece at the gallery last week, symbols drawn on the body. Your legs, just like you had them just then, but with..." he waggled the pen. "Art on them." He looked earnest. “Nothing weird, I promise. We can do your arms, if you’d prefer, but..” he nodded at her feet, managing to acknowledge her previous posture.  
  
Kevin licked her lips and thought about it. "Okay,” she said at last. “Two conditions: I get to scrap them if I don’t like them, and Mike gets to do the drawing."  
  
"Sure, but only if you explain it," he counter-offered. "I think he might hit me if I do it," Tom said, holding out the pen to her.  
  
It was a little nerve-wracking at first, especially as it seemed that all Mike and Tom's housemates had ended up sitting on Tom's bed, eating Doritos and offering ideas as Mike drew musical notation on Kevin's bare legs. Kevin tried to keep her breathing under control, trying not to think about the fact that she was in her Superman underwear with the dying elastic, that she hadn't shaved her legs since the weekend, and she didn't particularly want to do that kind of exhibition... art.  
  
Maybe. Possibly. Dating Mike seemed to be an adventure in uncovering new horizons.  
  
"Done," Mike said, sitting back and capping the pen. Kevin stuck out both her legs, gripping the edge of her chair for balance as she examined his handiwork.  
  
"Wait!" Max said. He disappeared and came back with his guitar, his baby, his six-string that had been making Kevin envious and heart-sick and a little lonely ever since she had first seen it.  
  
Apart from the sticker, it was exactly like her favourite that she'd had to leave behind.  
  
"Here," he said, thrusting it at her. Before she could cradle it properly, Tom was there, arranging her to his satisfaction. The click of the shutter was such a familiar noise to her now that it helped settle her, helped her regain her balance.

She studied the guitar in her hands, noting the similarities and the differences as the shutter clicked. Too many of the former, not enough of the latter - Kevin had to turn her head, look away, before she started crying.  
  
"Shit," Tom cursed. "Crap, where's my other memory card, just a sec."  
  
Kevin took a deep breath, pulling the guitar over onto her lap as Mike stepped up behind her, hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"  
  
"Fine," Kevin said, because she was, dammit, she was fine. She had an awesome boyfriend and awesome friends, and she was fine! Without thinking, her fingers found a chord sequence and she played them out, the strings harsh and jangly without an amp to make them sing.  
  
The whole room had been looking at her for the past hour, but now they were all staring. "I didn't know you played," Max said.  
  
Kevin stood up so fast that Mike's hand fell from her shoulder. "Used to," she said, too brightly. "I'm gonna go wash this stuff off, okay Tom?" Not waiting, she scooped up her jeans and rushed out. She just managed to snap the lock on the bathroom door before the tears spilled over.

She snuck out. She wasn't proud of it, but she was even less proud of how weepy and stupid she was being. She didn't go home, either, not wanting to climb those stairs to her box of an apartment.  
  
She had no idea how come she sat down in the bus shelter. She just did.  
  
Mike found her there an hour later. Kevin swallowed hard, but Mike didn't say anything, didn't shout, didn't ask. He just sat down next to her, his hand gentle as he laid it down on top of hers.  
  
She could deflect questions, shout back. This, she had no defense for.  
  
Mike caught her as she fell forward and sobbed.

 

 Kevin didn't know where the cat came from. It was tiny, not a kitten but not yet grown. It had just been sitting on her doorstep, sunning itself, and when Kevin had gone inside, it had followed like it owned the place.  
  
Kevin tried shooing it out. It just gave her a look and started licking its butt. "Be like that, then," Kevin told it, unpacking her books from her bag.  
  
There were some 'cooking on the cheap' cookbooks, one on making preserves (fruit was so cheap, but Kevin knew from experience that wouldn't last) and a book on knitting she'd found mis-shelved amid all the cookbooks.  
  
Kevin didn't know why she'd picked it up, but she had, and when she'd walked into the thrift store to find balls of yarn and knitting needles on sale for quarters, she took it as a sign.  
  
Kevin sat down at her tiny table, the one she'd rescued from the roadside and made good again with a dimestore tablecloth. The cat jumped up. Kevin picked it up and put it on the floor. The cat leapt up again. "You better not be carrying rabies," Kevin told it. She opened the book, studied the first diagram, and then reached for the ball of yarn.  
  
The cat tapped the ball, but stopped at Kevin's warning noise. It took a few goes, but Kevin got herself cast on - kind of. She held up the needle, the pink yarn dangling unevenly. "What do you think?"  
  
The cat yowled.  
  
"Everyone's a critic," Kevin muttered, but tugged off the yarn, wound it back around the ball, and tried again.  
  
Maybe she'd make Mike a scarf, and make him wear it the next time she needed a laugh.

They found the piano, broken and busted, dumped in an empty lot. It had been there a while, the mechanism speckled with rain damage, grasses growing between the pedals.  
  
Kevin and Sean made twinned noises of pain. "Who would do such a thing?" she asked.  
  
Sean petted it gently, like it was an animal in pain. "There there," he murmured.  
  
Kevin brushed her curls back off her face and gently pressed down a key. The hammer, wet and frayed, made a dull thunk against the string. Deeper inside the mechanism, something went 'ping.'  
  
Sean looked like he was going to cry. "She's gone."  
  
Kevin looked over at Mike, who quickly wiped his amused grin off his face. "People suck," he said dutifully.  
  
"Good boy," Kevin murmured, and Mike knew she was fully aware how silly she was being, and didn't care. It made something warm and fierce blossom in his belly.  
  
"We should give it a proper send off."  
  
"Viking funeral," Tom agreed.  
  
Sean made sure Tom was occupied taking photographs before the flammable stuff came out.  
  
Mike slung his arm around Kevin as they watched the piano, cleared away of grass and coated in gas, caught and burned with brilliance in the gathering night.  
  
The first blare of siren had them running without thought, and Kevin laughed as she caught Mike's hand and led them unerringly down back alleys to safety.

Mike swears that Kevin got literal hearts-eyes the second she saw them. They were skyscraper tall, glittery and so pink they could be a hazard to low-flying aircraft. "I've gotta have 'em," Kevin breathed, fondling them like they were a Faberge egg and not a tacky pair of heels.  
  
Mike grinned, ignoring the grannies and the young moms herding kids that were crowding the thrift store. "And do what with them?"  
  
Kevin clutched them to her breast. "Wear them with pride, Carden!" she declared loftily.  
  
Mike picked up the other shoe. He swore, just touching it made him want a margarita. The price tag was a series of slashes, knocking the price down to the princely sum of two dollars. It looked like they'd been in the store a while, and for good reason. "Honey, if you actually wear these in public, I will take you somewhere so they can be among their own kind."  
  
Kevin beamed and darted forward to kiss the side of his mouth before dropping them in her basket. "Shall we see if we can find a dress to match?"  
  
To his relief, Kevin found a slinky little black dress that made Mike want to stare at her cleavage, and a demure suit for him. Now all Mike had to do was find a way to uphold his end of the deal, especially given he had five bucks to his name.  
  
In the end, they threw a party at the house he shared with the guys. It turned out everyone they knew had something sequined in their closet.  
  
Mike suspected that said a lot about their circle of friends.  
  
Kevin shone, cheeks flushed from the colourful drinks being mixed at their make-shift bar, sashaying around like it was perfectly natural to walk on six-inch spikes. Her shoes glittered and her eyes shone and Mike went to wrap his arms around her waist and glare at anyone who stared too long.  
  
Soon, the party wound down, and Kevin twisted in his embrace to kiss his lips, tasting of alcohol and fruit drink. In those shoes, she was almost as tall as he was, and Mike dipped her just because he could. She laughed and held on and kissed him again. "Take me upstairs, Mike," she whispered, low and sultry, and Mike could do nothing but obey.

 

 Kevin told herself she should be used to being poor. Apart from a few brief, whirlwind weeks before, well, everything--  
(there's no market for a three-person act, we're looking for a particular stage-presence, listen, face it Kevin you're just not the kind of girl other girls want to see up there, and you don't want to drag your brothers down, do you? You want to be a good girl, don't you?)  
\-- she had always had to make a little stretch a long way. It just seemed that lately, there had been less little to stretch and more ground to make it stretch over.  
  
And Mike's birthday was coming up, and short of the celebratory blowjob he was getting anyway (she still blushed when she remembered her last birthday), she had no idea what to get him. The boys were going on tour, just a little one, three bands doing the circuit of campus bars and run-down dives, but it was a tour, and it was on all their own backs, no labels or management. Kevin was so proud of them, had told them all that. Maybe she could get him something practical to take on tour?  
  
That thought conjured up buried memories of being crammed in a van, playing anywhere that didn't actively chase them off, and Kevin swallowed down the bitter taste on the back of her tongue and tried to focus on the now.  
  
Sean and Tom had been no help. Max actually thought about it for a moment, which was probably why Max was her favourite after Mike. "I'd say the only thing he'd want is for you to be there, but since you have to work, maybe make him up some Skype date cards or something?" He laughed. "Unless you can actually fold up in the drumkit!"  
  
She blinked. "Actually, that's really helpful Max, thanks." She smiled at him and went to find Tom.  
  
She didn't tell him what she was planning, but from the way he was grinning, and the way he carefully explained three times how to format the memory card when she was done, she figured he knew what she was up to. He handed over her camera with a wink. "Now, I'm gonna go challenge your boy to a game of Stump the Band. That should keep him busy for the rest of the afternoon."  
  
Kevin ignored her blush, took the camera and the tripod, and headed home. She pulled out her glasses and peered at the tiny readouts on the display, setting them one by one like Tom had shown her. She set it up above her bed, and thought. "What do you think, kitty?" she asked Audrey. The cat leapt up onto the window sill and began licking her paws.  
  
Kevin thought for a second, thought about what she'd like if their places were reversed, and took a deep breath as she reached for the button of her jeans.

She pulled up her socks nervously, kicked them down, then pulled them back up again. Audrey made a noise. "Fine, fine, pushy," Kevin mumbled and set the timer before leaping onto the mattress.  
  
The camera flashed and clicked in a burst, two seconds apart. Kevin crawled off the mattress, and hit the review button. She cringed, laughing a little, at the total herp-derp of a face she was pulling in the first photo. She clicked 'trash' quickly and flicked through the other pictures.  
  
Trash.  
Trash.  
Trash.  
  
She set up the camera again.  
  
The sun was sinking, casting long shadows across her mattress as she moved the tripod in. "Last time, if this doesn't work, fuck it, he's getting a gift card from work," Kevin told Audrey.  
  
The warning light flashed. Kevin looked up at the lens, and thought of Mike getting one of her stupid-faced pictures and a gift card. She bit her lip, trying not to laugh, and the flash popped. She gave up, and began pulling ridiculous Maxim poses with each flash, hand spread across her belly, her shirt riding up, as she coyly bit the index finger of her other hand.  
  
FLASHclick.  
  
Kevin sprawled and laughed, feeling silly and tiny little bit turned on. She flinched with her whole body at the rap on the door. "Who is it?" she called out, snatching up her jeans and tugging them on.  
  
"It's Mike." Kevin hurried to unlatch the door.  
  
He stood on her doorstep, holding a heavy bag. "Why was Tom grinning at me and refusing to let me leave all afternoon, and why did he give me his laptop when he finally let me go? Also, this?" He held up the camera connection cable.  
  
Kevin caught him by the hem of his shirt and tugged him inside. "Depends. Do you want your birthday present early?"  
  
Audrey flashed out the door just before it swung closed. She'd come back later, when it was time for quiet snuggles.

 

 Kevin had a vague recollection of finding math fun and easy. Then some bastard had to add dollar signs in front of the numbers and everything went straight to hell.  
  
It didn't help that a lot of the numbers on the plus column were small, and the numbers on the minus column were large. She scribbled and scribbled, rubbing out numbers here and doing side calculations there. Her tongue kept darting out as she came closer and closer to zero. "Aha!" she cried at last. "Fuck you, taxes, I win."  
  
Mike came over and put a mug of coffee down beside her, kissing her on the top of her hair. "Congrats, sweetheart." He paused, then bent down past her chair. "Umm, was this important?" He held out what he had found on the floor.  
  
Kevin stared at the 'past-due' notice in his hand and wanted to cry. "Fuck me," she sighed and reached for her pencil again.

 

 Mike's got his arm around her, like he does now whenever they walk together, and Kevin's feeling too warm and safe to complain about how lopsided it makes their steps. She's laughing at a story he's telling when a tiny flicker of colour out the corner of her eye catches her attention.  
  
She pauses, and Mike pivots around her for half a step before he catches up with the fact that she's no longer walking. "What?"  
  
Kevin doesn't answer, just steps off the path and creeps up on the fluttering paper, like it might vanish. She tugs it free - the bill is damp and crumpled, but whole. She holds it up, and Mike's eyes widen as he realizes its value.  
  
Kevin could do so much with a hundred dollars. But looking at Mike, she gets a better idea. "Let's go on a date."  
  
She sees it, in his face, the flicker of calculation, pragmatics battling romanticism. She smiles as romanticism wins. "A real date," he agrees, reaching for her free hand to help her step back onto the path and back to her place tucked in against his side.

 

 Even if she got all the money tomorrow, Kevin would still go thrift store shopping. There was something about the thrill of discovery, the hunt for the perfect item with a 50 cent price tag that appealed to her.  
  
"It's the hunter in you," Mike chuckled, dutifully tagging along, holding her basket. "Your ancestors must have been the racing across the savannah with spears, don't lie."  
  
The image appealed. They wove through the tightly packed shelves, her eyes racing over the stacks of goods. "Oh," she breathed.  
  
Even Mike whistled. The shelf was low, cast in shadows, but even so the glaze of the pots and jars gleamed brightly, colour rich and captivating. Kevin picked up each piece slowly, turning it in her hands, considering its use, looking for cracks. A red vase in particular caught her eye, and she turned it gently in her cupped hands. "The flowers out by your steps were coming out this morning," Mike said behind her, knowing what she was thinking. "They'd look nice in that, on your table."  
  
"Audrey might smash it," Kevin said softly.  
  
Mike shrugged. "Then, knowing you, you'll make something pretty out of the pieces. Go on, sweetheart. Treat yourself."  
  
Mike was right. The vase did look pretty on the table. Audrey paused to sniff the flowers and then padded off to find a sunny spot to nap in.  
  
Kevin looked at her, then at the little table with its bright vase, the sounds of Mike whistling as he made them lunch filling the room, and for the first time, Kevin truly felt like she was home.

Mike was the first person she'd ever told the story to. She only remembered scenes, fragments, almost like her mind was protecting her from her memory.  
  
She'd been happy, or at least thought she had been, playing with her brothers, traveling with her family. It was nice to think she finally belonged with them, instead of being just the dutiful babysitter, house cleaner, person who waited, whatever.  
  
Then they'd played for the label, and Kevin had had such a good feeling about it. She'd waited outside, the seats hard and unyielding, watching Joe chase Nick up and down the hall as they burned off nerves and excitement.  
  
Her father's hand was heavy on her shoulder. They went in to talk to the men in suits with him, without her brothers. Later, her brothers hadn't looked her in the eye as her father repeated what the men had said about her.  
  
She tried, but it was impossible to go back to being the dutiful, quiet one. She'd seen a glimpse, just a tiniest peek of life on her own terms.  
  
It was raining the night she and her father had yelled things at each other that could never be taken back. She still had her travel duffel, and she'd shoved into it whatever she could find that was clean.  
  
The guitars were all downstairs in the living room, where her brothers were. She'd walked out the front door with only her bag on her shoulder.  
  
The rain had soaked her down to the skin on the walk to the bus stop. She sat on the bench, waiting for the next bus heading out of state, shivering and cold.  
  
The bus to Illinois left at dawn. Kevin didn't let herself think how many hours it had taken for her family not to find her, sitting out there by the main road in the rain.  
  
She bought a one-way ticket and never looked back.

  



	2. Chapter 2

 

Nobody believed that Mike was a romantic. Nearly everyone, his friends included, saw only the gruffness, the guy who'd slap you up the back of the head in greeting, who used swearwords as nouns, verbs, adjectives and punctuation. They'd make jokes about it with Kevin, or drop hints at Mike, that maybe he'd better buy her presents or something if he wanted to keep his girlfriend.

  
Kevin and Mike would both just smile and shrug. She kind of liked that it was their secret, that he'd bring her flowers, bouquets he'd crossed the city to collect, arranging them himself in her little red vase under Audrey's critical eye. That he left notes in her mailbox, or folded in her cutlery drawer, or stuck to the bottle of milk.  
  
I love how clever you are, teaching yourself to do all these amazing things.  
  
I am so lucky I met you.  
  
I love your smile.  
  
She kept them all in a box under her bed, careful not to damage them, laid flat next to the flowers she'd dried, the ticket stubs to concerts they'd been to. These little scraps were more precious to her than any expensive gift anyone else could ever give her, because she knew he meant it.

 

 The first time she'd seen his room, tucked up the back of the house he shared with the other guys, Kevin had been surprised at how many books lined the walls. She suspected she'd gotten points for immediately going over and sighing in delight at the row of classic sci-fi, with the old pulp covers.  
  
She'd helped him pack and unpack those books several times now, and this latest move was no exception. Sean just laughed. "How come you're the only one he lets handle his precious geek collection?" he'd teased as she'd tottered up the steps to Mike's new room.  
  
Kevin had smiled, watching Mike carefully stroke and check each cover for creases before putting it on the shelf. She'd turned her attention to unpacking the less important stuff, like his bedding, letting him have the ritual of the moment.  
  
Besides, she had to admit, later on as they dozed together on the freshly made bed, the sun slanting through the window and making the dust motes dance, there was something soothing about a room full of the scent of old books.

 

 Kevin had to pause several times, hauling her tired ass up the keyboard stairs. She felt queasy and shivery as she struggled to get her key in the lock.  
  
The water from the tap tasted a little metallic, but she gulped down the whole glass in three swallows, and filled it back up to the brim again. The knock at the door had her lifting her head blearily.  
  
Mike blinked, his smile dying as she opened the door. "You look like shit," he said bluntly.  
  
"Love you too," Kevin retorted, her voice sounding hoarse.  
  
Mike steered her over to the sofa and made her sit down. He knelt and undid her shoes. "How are you feeling?" he asked as he tugged them clear and tossed them away.  
  
Kevin yawned. "So, so tired..." she keeled over sideways, and Mike guided her down until she was curled up on the couch. She was already mostly asleep as Mike tugged the blanket over her shoulders and gently kissed her forehead. She sighed and drifted off to sleep.

 

 Mike showed up on her birthday ringing the bell. Which was odd, Kevin thought as she opened the door. She didn't have a doorbell.  
  
It wasn't a doorbell. It was a bike bell. As soon as he saw her, Mike beamed and half-bowed, one hand on each bike's handles. "Oh come ride with me," he sang, on-key. "Come ride, let's ride away."  
  
Kevin had to hold onto the doorframe, laughing with pure joy. Mike was wearing a waistcoat, a flower bud in the coat pocket, and a hat she was sure he had stolen from Patrick. But there was a hamper in the basket, the sun was shining, and her boyfriend was being adorable.  
  
Ignoring the fact that she was wearing tights and a skirt, she took the bike Mike was holding from her. She hadn't ridden since she was a kid, before she discovered skateboards instead, but by the time they were coasting downhill, it had come back to her. The wind was streaming through her hair as they rode towards the lake.  
  
"Good birthday?" Mike asked her later as they sat on a railing by the bikes, eating ice cream and watching the world go by.  
  
"The best," Kevin told him and kissed the side of his mouth.

Everyone drew a scrap of paper out of the hat. "And remember, fuckers," Tom said. "This is for Halloween and our house's honour. No way is Wentz topping our party this year."  
  
"Whatdya get?" Mike murmured, leaning in as Sean and Tom started arguing about skeletons.  
  
Kevin held her scrap to her chest. "Shh, it's a secret."  
  
She worked in her kitchen all day, with little glass bottles and various recipes, writing labels in her steadiest hand and tying them around the necks with string.  
  
She wove through the madness of the party prep, and deposited her box on the kitchen table. Sean began rifling through them, his face aglow with excitement, and quite possibly several pre-party shots. "Kev, babe, these are awesome," he said, pulling out a 'Madness Potion' and holding it up to the light.  
  
Kevin pulled the last bottle out and held it out to Mike as he came over with Tom. "And this one's for you."  
  
Tom and Sean wolf-whistled as they saw 'Love Potion' written in curly script.  
  
Mike put it back in the box. "It's redundant. Trust me, you don't need a potion, you've already got me under your spell."  
  
Kevin flipped off Tom and Sean, who were grinning and making retching noises, and hauled Mike in for a kiss.

 

Kevin sat curled up under the blankets and watched the ice form against the glass. Another winter. Another year already.  
  
Tomorrow was the anniversary of That Day, and though it no longer made her want to curl up and cry, the thought of another year gone by still made her ache, deep inside.  
  
She wondered if they were thinking about it too. If the date had any kind of meaning for them as it did for her.  
  
In the kitchen, she heard the kettle boil. "I’m making tea, do you want one, sweetheart?" Mike called out.  
  
Kevin smiled at her reflection in the frosted glass. "No love, I'm good. I'm good."

 

"It'll be good to get out of town, they said. Come on, it'll be fun, they said!" Jon hunched down further in his hoodies. "I swear, dude, if we get eaten by werewolves, I'm blaming you."  
  
Tom flipped him off. But the way he map around again and peered at it didn't inspire confidence. Mike was driving, craning his head to try and see clearly through the dark shadows cast by the tall trees that crowded up against the track.  
  
"I hate to join Team Werewolf over here," Max said hesitantly. "But shouldn't the road be, I don't know, a road? This is like a track where they find dumped bodies."  
  
There was a chorus of agreement from the packed van. Kevin just smiled out at the window - it had been a long time since she'd been surrounded by anything but buildings, and she hadn't realized how much she'd missed, well, trees.  
  
"Everyone, shut up!" Mike snapped. Kevin knew he'd be getting angry as soon as Tom declared himself navigator. "The lady at the gas station said it was only ten miles up the road. So no more bitching until we hit at least 15!"  
  
"Road not track," Max whispered to Jon.  
  
Kevin grinned, and caught Mike's eye in the rear view mirror. Are we there yet? she mouthed, and caught his tiny smile.  
  
Ahead of them, the track opened up into a clearing with an old house plopped right in the middle. "Ha, told you!" Tom yelled, fist pumping against the roof of the van. “Vacation time, bitches!"

Kevin woke late, blinking at the unfamiliar ceiling for a moment before memory returned. Tom's great-aunt's cottage. Vaction. That's right.  
  
She sat up, blinking at the light streaming through the windows. The other side of the bed was empty, a Mike-shaped depression in the pillows showing where he had been.  
  
She bit her lip. She'd had in her head a tiny fantasy about waking up next to him, maybe spooning in close. She sighed; of course, it had been stupid to think...  
  
The door creaked as it was nudged open. Mike smiled when he saw her, balancing his tray as he used his elbow to nudge the door shut. "Morning. Sorry, was trying to sneak out and back before you woke. Coffee?" he handed her a mug, already fixed how she liked it, and put the tray on the small dresser pushed against the far wall. "Hey, you okay?"  
  
Kevin nodded, plastering a smile on her face. Mike wasn't fooled. "I was hoping, maybe we could just stay in bed this morning." He put his own mug down on the windowsill and crawled carefully onto the bed, kissing her knee where it was resting against the covers. "We never get to just lounge around in bed together." That much was true; usually one or both of them had to go too soon, to work or wherever.  
  
Kevin swallowed and put her own mug down next to Mike's. "I'd like that...a lot."  
  
Mike crawled the rest of the way up the bed and tugged her over until she was resting, her back against his chest, his arm flung easily over her waist.  
  
The coffee went cold, and neither cared.

Mike let himself in with the key she had given him. "Kev?"  
  
He followed the sound of a sniff, flicking on the lamp. Kevin was a huddle under a blanket, Audrey purring fiercely where she had tucked herself in against Kevin's chest. She looked up, pale, eyes red and cheeks tear-stained. He was on his knees before her without even realizing he had moved, gathering her up in a hug. Audrey yelped at the change in posture, but didn't move, and Mike petted her fur in gratitude. "What is it? What's wrong?" he asked Kevin.  
  
She lifted her fist, and Mike saw it was an envelope, ripped open and crumpled where she had been clutching it. "It's from my mom. She...she thinks she can just write to me, now? After all these years? Not even a real apology or anything, just news of my fu-- of my brothers' careers." She was crying again. "How did they even know my address? They know where I live?"  
  
Mike held her tight and let her cry. He wasn't sure whether she even knew whether them knowing where she lived was a bad thing or not.

Kevin was it for him. Mike knew it with a certainty he'd felt for few other things in his life. Kevin was it.  
  
But neither of them were ready for things like the M-word, no matter how many hints his mother dropped. Even if he asked, Kev was smart enough to say no, or at least not yet.  
  
But still, Mike felt this knowledge needed something more tangible than a song or a photograph or a note scribbled on a scrap of paper.  
  
When his mother asked him to get some string from the kitchen drawer as he helped her clear out the junk in the basement, and he saw the small padlock with a key, he knew what to do.  
  
(Given that his mother pressed a small chain necklace into his hands with the words 'and that's for Kevin too,' he suspects that maybe it was planted there for him to find.)  
  
He walks her, hand in hand, across the city to the park he'd known about since he was a kid. "What's that?" Kevin asked, nodding at the fence covered in locks and chains.  
  
"It's a Lovelock. Couples bring a padlock and affix it to the fence as a sign of their unbreakable bond." Kevin's whimsical smile turns into a look of surprise as he presses a padlock into her hand.  
  
Later, the key strung on the chain and hanging like a necklace above her cleavage, they walk downstream, back towards his mother's house for dinner, and start talking, tentatively, about their future.

 

 Things had been tough, when Mike had first told his family he wasn't going to college, he was going to become a musician. But strangely, after his first band had collapsed and he'd kept going, his family had thawed to the idea, like they saw just how serious he was, how committed he was to making this work.  
  
They'd defrosted completely the first time they met Kevin. Mike still hadn't figured that one out.  
  
But he was back in the family, and with Kevin, and that meant they both got invited to family events. His cousin's wedding reception was large, held outside under a huge white tent, but the bar was open and the DJ was pretty good, so on the whole he couldn’t complain. He turned when he heard his name. "Mike, this is the groom's brother. David, this is my son Mike, Maxine's cousin." They shook hands, nodding in the secret code of guys in the company of mothers. "Oh, and this is my almost-daughter, Kevin."  
  
Mike blinked and nearly said something. But he stopped when he saw the blinding smile Kevin lit up with at his mother's words. He nodded and took her hand, eyes only on her as his mother chatted on.

 

It was still technically fall, but the early heat wave had ripped through the city, carrying with it a promise of a sweltering summer.  
  
Kevin worked her way through the press of hot, sweaty bodies, instinctively keeping beat with the pounding music, and pressed a cold drink into Mike's hands.  
  
He mouthed thanks, sipping at it to wet his throat. Kevin gave a wolfish grin and licked a drop off her own lips, staring him right in the eye. Her bare arms were tanned, toned from carrying everything she needed up and down those stairs. They finished their drinks, eyeing each other up with looks filled with promise, before Kevin was dragging Mike out into the anonymity of the dance floor.  
  
Mike kept his hand on her wrist as Kevin danced, wild and free, twisting around him and pressing up against him, looking at him in a way that let him know she knew exactly what she was doing.  
  
He grabbed her other wrist and dragged her in for a demanding kiss. "Let's go home," he growled.  
  
She bit her lip and used his grip on her to tug him towards the exit.

 

 Kevin never really talked about her girlhood. Mike got the impression it was lonely, and difficult, and that all of Kevin's problems with her family didn't start with the one screaming match she had told him about.  
  
"You can tell me, you know," he told her as he held her, running his hands soothingly up and down her shivering arms, holding her close as she woke fully from her nightmare. "Anything, you can tell me."  
  
"I know," she said, and they both knew she'd be taking those secrets to the grave.

 

Neither of them had a television, and they were usually too broke to even think about going to the movies. Any spare cash went on books, or music, or gigs.  
  
But even so, sometimes pop culture shouted loud enough even they had to pay attention. The billboards and posters were everywhere, Kevin's two brothers, the two who had abandoned her, looking down at them from everywhere with smiling, smug faces.  
  
They'd landed a TV show.  
  
Mike saw the tightness around Kevin's eyes, and went to ask Tom if his aunt would mind lending her cottage for the weekend.

Mike got nervous before he went on stage, every time. It was both better and worse when they were out on the road; better, because nobody knew them, but worse because they were all alone on the stage.  
  
Mike opened his guitar case backstage at the dive bar that was their first gig on this little mini-tour that Sean and Pete had concocted for a few of the scene bands. He reached for a pick to start tuning up, and paused.  
  
There was writing on the pick, in Kevin's unique hand. He scooped all his picks into the palm of his hand and turned them over.  
  
Each one had a lyric on it, or a line from a poem. A few had drawings, little stick figures doing ridiculous things.  
  
Every night after that, he found he wasn't so nervous anymore.

As if Kevin wasn't perfect enough for him, she loved bookstores too. Every time they went into the city, no matter what the reason, they both knew without speaking that sooner or later they'd end up in a bookstore, just browsing through anything that caught their fancy.  
  
They both had favourites. Kevin had been the one to find the specialist sci-fi bookstore upstairs above a pawn brokers, filled with all his favourite authors, comfy old beanbags, and the owners' dog who trotted around like the store was his personal kingdom.  
  
Mike was the one who knew all the secondhand dealers, the street vendors and market stall holders who had the rare finds, not just endless tacky Mills and Boon.  
  
Even at a pinch, they'd both be happy in a Barnes and Noble, browsing the brightly lit shelves and never mocking where the other ended up, whether it was Russian Literature or the children's section.  
  
Mike had always loved books. And it was nice to love someone who loved them too.

Pete, being Pete, celebrated his birthday for the entire week leading up to the day. That night, Kevin and Mike walked to the address on their envelope, joining in a steady stream of people walking into the warehouse near the docks.  
  
"Oh," Kevin sighed, looking up at the ceiling. Hundreds of paper stars, gleaming and flickering, hung just over their heads.  
  
Mike, having known Pete a very long time, immediately started wondering where the nearest fire extinguisher was. Kevin elbowed him in the ribs. "Come on, stop that and let's go say hi to the birthday boy."  
  
Pete was lounging amid a ring of admirers, but he bounded up to greet Kevin with a kiss on her cheek and Mike with a punch to the arm. "You made it! Grab a drink, dance a little, find your star." He looked at their blank faces. "Every star matches an invite, has a little message. A little thank you to all my fabulous friends!" The last was shouted out across the party, and met with a cheer of approval.  
  
Mike let Kevin lead him by the hand as she searched the stars. She found theirs, side by side, hanging just within reach in front of a little mezzanine upper level. The strings were twined together. Kevin leaned over the railing and caught hers, delicately pulling it in. "Huh. Only my name. What did he mean, a message?"  
  
Mike was staring at the twisted cords. Message received.


	3. Chapter 3

Kevin sighed as she sat with the other staff, getting reamed out by the stupid junior manager. The dick was maybe the same age as she was, but with a nylon shirt and a skinny tie that he probably thought was hip.  
  
And he was definitely a dick. They weren't stupid, just because they worked here. They could work a new computer system.  
  
By the end of the day, Kevin clocked out with angry movements, close to tears.  
  
She could get it. She wasn't dumb. But that stupid kid of a manager kept interrupting and poking and talking to her when she was trying to think, trying to override muscle memory and she had just made mistake after stupid mistake.  
  
She was better than this, she told herself as she walked home in the gathering dusk. So how the fuck could it be so easy to make her feel so worthless.

 

Kevin made it back to her place as the streetlights flickered on. She closed the door, snipped the lock, and then slumped against it. Audrey twined her way between Kevin's legs, meowing softly. "I think it's time for emergency action, 'Drey," Kevin told her. Audrey meowed in agreement.  
  
The box was where she had stashed it, bought with a coupon on special a few weeks ago, and put away for emergencies. Checking to make sure she had enough eggs, Kevin reached for a bowl.  
  
Pausing only to put out some cat food to stop Audrey from trying to trip her up, Kevin soon had a bowl of ooey, gooey chocolate perfection. The tiny oven was kicking heat out into her entire apartment, and Kevin was humming as she poured the batter into a pan. "And the best part," she told her cat as she slid the pan into the oven. "Is there is no-one to fight for the right to lick the spoon." She curled up on her sofa with the spoon and the bowl and licked them both clean, running her finger around the bowl for any last smears of batter, as the whole apartment filled with the sweet smell of a freshly baked chocolate cake.

 

By Friday night, the general consensus was that it had been a universally shitty week. Tom's hours had been cut back, and everyone's rehearsal space rent had gone up, and a hundred little upsets had screwed everyone over with sheer cumulative suck.  
  
"There is only one remedy," Tom declared, patting his girlfriend on the knee as he stood up. "PINK ALCOHOLIC DRINKS WITH EXTRA ALCOHOL."  
  
Later on, when the room was spinning and there was three of everyone, it was agree that pink alcoholic drinks with extra alcohol do make everything better. Later still, when Mike and Kevin were taking turns holding each others’ hair back as they vomited up pink stuff, they decided maybe they weren't so great after all.

 

 Kevin had stopped dead when Mike had led her by the hand to the back of the old shop. Apart from the pale green of the baseboard, it was exactly the same as the electric she had been forced to leave behind when she had fled - same make, same model, same everything. "Gary says he'll do you a deal, let you pay it back on installment," Mike said softly, watching her expression carefully. It had been a gamble, bringing this to her, but he had seen the guarded sadness in her eyes whenever any of them pulled out their guitars and played.  
  
Kevin shook her head tightly, eyes downcast, biting her lip as she turned away. Mike caught her and gently lifted her gaze with a finger under her chin. "It's your choice, and I know there are a lot of bad memories tied up in music. But I bet there are lots of good ones too. Don't just cut it off because you think they got it and you didn't. Take a risk, sweetheart. Give it a go." His heart was pounding as Kevin looked over her shoulder at the guitar.  
  
He only breathed out when she gave a tight, curt little nod. Okay.

 

 They'd all pitched in together, about four bands and a few guys between bands at the moment, to rent one large, proper rehearsal space. It made more sense, and was cheaper, than them all having their own little areas scattered across the city.  
  
The downside was that it was often crowded, noisy and cluttered with a dozen separate kits, instruments, cables and left-behind junk.  
  
Mike had warned the guys, still aware of how twitchy Kevin was about her new guitar. She carried it in one hand, her other holding Mike's hand tightly as they walked to rehearsal.  
  
Tom waved them over. "Hey, is that the new guitar? Plug it in, my lady," he said, waving at his spare amp. "I wanna hear what it sounds like."  
  
Mike could have kissed Tom; by making it about the guitar, it kinda let Kevin fade away a bit as she figured out her own head. She plugged in with deft, sure motions, like she did this every day. She crouched, guitar balanced on her knees, tuning it by ear. They'd come straight from the store, and it took a while to get it to her satisfaction. She then flopped back to sit on the floor, guitar cradled in her crossed legs. And she started to play.  
  
Mike wasn't the only one staring by the end. Kevin looked up, coming out of the trance she was in. "What?" she asked, a little defensively as her cheeks coloured.  
  
Mike gaped, wondering what to say. That was amazing, and you haven't played in how long, those execs were jerks not to sign you why you had a chance, all whirled around in his head.  
  
Tom strummed a chord. "Sounded good, sweetcheeks, you got a good guitar there."  
  
And Kevin nodded and smiled, her fingers gently stroking her guitar.

 

 Kevin lay on her belly on her bed, chin propped up on her folded arms, and just considered.  
  
In the doorway, Mike cleared his throat. "Have I been usurped?"  
  
Kevin smiled, never taking her eyes off the strings. "Never. But my guitar needs a name. And I can't think of one."  
  
Mike chuckled and came into the room. "Says the girl who was going to name Audrey 'Cat.' Hmm, no idea why you are having problems..." he laughed quietly as she flipped him off, and sat down on the edge of the bed, his hand warm against the small of her back. "It will come. In time."  
  
She lay there, almost dozing, letting Mike gently pet her spine as all the melodies she wanted to play coalesced in her head.

  
Mike sat on the Keyboard Stairs, waiting for Kevin to come home. She hadn't been in when he'd knocked, though Audrey had come back from her prowl long enough to say hi.  
  
Mike knew she climbed the stairs to get home. He sat and waited as the night drew in. Bored, he started to flick his lighter, an old habit. He spied a can a few steps down, dropped and discarded. But when he pressed the nozzle he heard the hiss of gas, and he held up the flame.  
  
The fire billowed in time to the spluttering of the last of the propellant. "You really are a bad boy, aren't you?" he heard Kevin call.  
  
He flicked off the lighter, blinking away the after-images imprinted on his eyeball. He got up, chucking the can and pocketing his lighter to take one of her grocery bags. "You love bad boys."  
  
She shrugged, one foot on the first step as she pecked a kiss to his lips. "Just one in particular. Now come on, bad boy, and help me with my groceries."

 

The letters from her mother were infrequent, but whenever she got one, Kevin either got moody and weepy, or she went a little crazy. Mike wished he could write back to them on her behalf, tell them to fuck off and leave her alone. But all he could do was catch Kevin's wallet and keys as she tossed them to him, before she stepped with a shriek of laughter off the diving board and into the pool, fully dressed. When her arms came out first, middle fingers extended to the sky, Mike knew exactly who she was flipping off.

 

Mike flicked his lighter against the wick until the flame caught. Between them, spread out on the floor and lit by flickering candles, was a lifetime before this one -- Mike recognized in the young faces in the photographs the precursors to the faces on the posters and billboards.  
  
Kevin took a deep breath, and Mike took her hands, steadying her. She nodded gratefully and pulled the empty box on her lap. "I need to say goodbye for the last time, guys," she told the photographs. "I'm not going to let you drag me down any more."  
  
She packed each memento away, one by one, telling Mike stories that he'd never heard before and knew he'd never hear again.  
  
When the floor was clear save for the guttering candles, she closed the box and taped it shut. Mike wasn't sure, but she did seem lighter as she handed him the box to put away where she’d never find it.

 

Halloween was their social circle's equivalent of a national holiday. Tom took one look at Mike's prison stripes, the row of numbers, and burst out laughing. "Would Kevin kill me if I made an old-ball-and-chain joke?" he chuckled.  
  
"Choke you to death with your own intestines," Kevin told him quietly, standing right behind him, making him jump. She laughed. "Nice zombie outfit," she added, patting his shoulder gently.  
  
Later, they danced together, waltzing slowly, Mike carrying the fake shackles over his arm as he held Kevin close. "Thief," he whispered in her ear. "You stole my heart."  
  
"Sappy, Carden, sappy," she teased, but she was glowing as she said it.

 

 They still talked about the future, in broad terms, acknowledging without ever really addressing just how serious they'd become.  
  
It still wasn't time, it wasn't the right moment, but Mike could feel it getting closer. "Tell me," he said, tugging on her hand and making her stop. "When I ask, when the time is right, would you say yes?"  
  
She blinked, then smiled, his favourite expression on her. "Yes," she said bluntly. "I would. I promise, I will."  
  
He squeezed her hand and felt the right moment get even closer.

 

 He was late; he was so unbelievably, unforgivably late. He ran up the stairs and almost slammed into her door, panting so hard he could barely see.  
  
The door opened before he could knock. "I'm so sorry," he gasped out before she could speak. "We were rehearsing, and then there was this new song, and I lost track of time and...." he straightened up, stilling as he saw the sad affection in her eyes. "I'm sorry."  
  
"It's okay," she said, and Mike knew she was trying to believe it. "Your music is important to you."  
  
"You're important to me," he added. But he didn't try to quantify any difference. They both knew anything he said would be a lie.

 

 The celebrated the pressing of Tom and Sean and Max's new album with three pies of the best pizza in town. Kevin almost groaned as the smell hit her, all cheesy pizza-y goodness. She waited, just, for the boys of the hour to fill their paper cups and propose a toast, before she was grabbing a napkin and picking up a slice.  
  
Kevin moaned around the first mouthful, her tongue darting out to twirl up the long strands of melted cheese. Only after she swallowed did she notice everyone looking at her. "What?"  
  
Sean was blushing. Tom just held out his fist and Mike fist bumped it. "Lucky bastard," Tom told him, draining his cup.  
  
Kevin blushed, but kept her eyes locked on Mike and deliberately took another bite.

 

 Kevin had been meaning to take Audrey to the vet, but there had never been enough spare money, and then it was too late, and she was padding out a box with a couple of old threadbare towels and gently coaxing a rotund and cranky Audrey into them.  
  
The next morning, there were four mewling kittens latched on to Audrey's teats.  
  
"How long until they're old enough to be adopted," Mike asked, watching as Max and Sean and Tom all cooed over the tiny kittens under Audrey's watchful eye.  
  
Kevin reached for the book she'd gotten from the library. "They say not before ten weeks, but not to leave it too late after that," she read from the page she had bookmarked with an old receipt. One of the kittens, bolder than the others, came and tried to crawl onto the page.  
  
"Are you going to survive that long?" Mike asked, knowing the look on Kevin's face.  
  
She gave him a pleading look. "I might need a little help with the adoption process," she admitted. The little kitten squeaked. "Or maybe a lot."

 

 There was something delightful about the glow of perfectly ripe apples. Kevin walked through the bustling farmer's market, sniffing and testing, looking for the perfect fruit. She had jars ready for preserves, and a recipe for apple cake that she was dying to try.  
  
She accepted a sample from one of the stalls, relishing the snap crispness and the lingering sweetness that only came from apples fresh from the orchard.  
  
The apples glowed like rubies in her basket as she walked home.


	4. Chapter 4

They broke her bedframe on a Sunday afternoon. Lying in the wreckage, all Kevin could do was laugh and laugh, feeling the sun through the window hitting her bare skin and the warmth of Mike's body pressed against hers.

  
She took him with her to find a new bed the next morning. "Mike," she said, watching him discreetly bounce a mattress, testing for strength. "Move in with me."  
  
Mike glanced up, eyes crinkling. "What?"  
  
"Move in with me. Officially." She grinned; she hadn't been planning on asking, but hey, bed shopping for two seemed like as good a time as any. "Half your shit is already at my place. Bring your books over."  
  
They signed the order for a new bed to be delivered then went to his place to box up the rest of his stuff.  
  
Unpacking, it was too easy for his things to merge with hers, like her entire space shuffled to make room.  
  
He cuddled her from behind as the delivery men manhandled the new bed into their room.  
  
Their room. Their home.

 

 Kevin would be the first to admit they lived on the shitty side of town. She had padlocks on the back door, and on the lockbox she hid under the floorboard in the closet, and a few other places, not obvious unless you were rooting around for it. She knew that it would be two seconds with a pair of bolt cutters to get past them, but they were enough to stop the opportunist.  
  
When Mike moved in, she had copies cut for all the keys, and drew on them the symbols that linked each key to its parent lock, scribbling in the fill of the heart for the key that opened the lock to the door.

 

 Mike's tours were hard on both of them, and his newest band's tour seemed doubly so. Kevin barely knew the other guys, they were little more than familiar faces in the scene, and it was just them this tour, no other bands. Kevin had gotten used to being able to call Tom, or get texts from Sean, or even emails from Pete, keeping her updated on Mike's mood, how he was doing, whether or not he was okay.  
  
She really needed an on-the-scene perspective; Mike was snappish and short, and she wasn't sure if he was just exhausted, or whether there was a problem with the tour.  
  
She tried her hardest, but it was difficult not to get frustrated with his frustration, snap back. The only thing that made it bearable was knowing with unshakeable certainty that she was in his thoughts just as much as he was in hers.

 

 Pete introduced her to Bebe with his usual lack of class. "Kevvy, this is Bebe, she lives up to her name, she's here for a while from New York, show her around will you?" And then he was gone, leaving an attractive brunette smiling at her with awkward nervousness.  
  
It took two lattes and a visit to her favourite record store for them to become friends. They were giggling, Bebe wide-eyed and laughing at Kevin's stories about Pete, when he caught up with them again. "They're all lies!" he declared, announcing himself, but Kevin didn't miss the grateful little nod he gave her when Bebe wasn't looking.  
  
As much as Kevin loved the boys, it was nice to have a girlfriend to hang with, who understood music and the scene, who didn't give her a hard time about her thrift-store style or her home-cut hair.  
  
It was nice to have adventures with someone a bit like her.

 

Bebe collected jewelry like Kevin collected crockery. She shook her head as Bebe crouched, balancing effortlessly in her ridiculous heels, and cooed over the baubles in the display case. And it was junk, to Kevin's eye, but then Kevin wore plain studs in her ears and a key around her neck as her sole concessions to anything approaching jewellery, so she probably wasn't the best judge.

 

Kevin tried to forget the date whenever her birthday rolled around. She hadn't celebrated it, as in cakes and presents, since she was very young, and Joe was just a baby, and things weren't so tense.  
  
She knew he knew as soon as he put his hands over her eyes that she wasn’t getting away with it quietly this year. "Happy birthday, darling," he whispered, kissing the edge of her jaw as he pulled his hands away. Everyone was there, all her friends, and Bebe was holding up a delicious looking cake, covered in fruit and candles.  
  
She blew out the candles and wishes in her own mind that from now on, these were the only birthdays that counted.

 

 Despite being in the scene, and on tour, and surrounded by every vice imaginable, Kevin and Mike didn't really do drugs. They drank, but not as much as some people, preferring these days to save up and split a good bottle of wine rather than deal with a cheap booze hangover.  
  
However, there was one thing they both agreed was worth paying a premium by the pound for. Their coffee maker was probably the most expensive piece of furniture they owned, and they cared for it with an attention to detail they normally reserved for their guitars.  
  
They both liked it strong, and black, and sweet. Hunched together in the cold mornings, the fragrant steam filling the air, they barely spoke until they'd had their first hit and were ready to deal with the day.

 

When Mike first found her secret stash, Kevin felt a burning flash of shame, and she braced herself for a mocking, no matter how teasing or gentle. But it never came. Slowly, she lifted her head. "Honey?"  
  
He held up one of the slim boxes. "This," he said hoarsely. "Is like, the best movie ever."  
  
They watched it on the laptop they had bought secondhand off a friend, cheering and saying all the big lines in time with the characters on screen. "Yay!" Mike said, doing a very good impression. "I'm a llama again!"  
  
Their friends never did figure out why Mike saying ‘llamas’ could make Kevin crack up, every time.

 

 She'd hoped they'd moved past this, but old instincts died hard, and she spotted the photographer almost immediately. Mike looked at her as she let go of his hand. "What?"  
  
"Paparazzi," she gritted out. "Come to get a new angle on the famous Jonas Brothers, no doubt."  
  
Mike firmly took her hand again. "Fuck 'em."  
  
She squeezed his fingers. "Please, trust me. Don't say anything, don't react. They can turn anything into a story."  
  
"Miss Jonas, I'm with..."  
  
"No comment," she said firmly, stepping past him. She could feel the tension in Mike as the hack kept asking her questions. He tugged on her wrist and they turned down a side alley, speeding up their steps as they sought the shelter of one of their favourite second hand bookstores.  
  
"Liam?" Mike called out. "Need a favour, back door? And if anyone asks, we weren't here."  
  
Liam gave them a jaunty salute as he let them out into a dingy alley lined with trashcans. Kevin and Mike ran, hand in hand, away from her past.

 

 Kevin really, really hated goodbyes. She held Mike's hands, kissing him gently, not giving a shit who was watching. Mike was going to be gone for a whole month, all the way to New York and back in the van, and she was gonna miss him.  
  
"Yo, Carden, time to roll!"  
  
He gave her one last kiss. "Love you. I'll call you tonight, okay?"  
  
Her hands cooled slowly, the warmth of his touch bleeding away as she stood watching the red tail lights drive down the road and out of sight.

 

 Kevin didn't have work today, and it was raining. She got up to get coffee and the laptop, and dove back into bed. Audrey yowled and climbed into Mike's spot, and Kevin dragged the cat in until they were cuddled together. She cued up a movie, and they watched it in silence except for Audrey's faint purrs and sighs, until the Skype icon started flashing for attention.  
  
Mike looked tired, even in the grainy picture. "Hey, gorgeous," he said, brightening as he saw her. "How are you?"  
  
"It's wet. We're watching Wall-E," Kevin said, lifting Audrey's paw to make her wave."  
  
He sighed. "I wish I was there with you."  
  
Kevin had nothing to say to that. She wished it too.

 

 The apartment seemed strangely big and empty without Mike in it. Kevin found herself wandering, not quite sure what to do with herself.  
  
She had no idea how she started doodling on one of Mike's acoustic guitars; but there she was, with a guitar in her lap and the scratchpad they used for making shopping lists now filling up with lyrics and little scraps of musical notation.  
  
Kevin sighed. She hadn't written since that night she left. Maybe it was time to start again, reclaim this too.  
  
She bent her fingers to the strings and lost herself in the songs.

 

 "Is that a tattoo?"  
  
Kevin looked down at her fingers as she shoved her backpack in a shelf in the staffroom. "No, just pen."  
  
Her co-worker gave her a look in the mirror as she twisted up her hair into a dress code-compliant ponytail. "Boss is gonna shit a brick."  
  
Kevin looked at the score she had doodled on her hand. If the boss gave her shit, well, maybe it was time for Kevin to find a new boss.

 

 When Bebe told her she was moving to Chicago permanently, Kevin had to hug her.  
  
She'd been secretly dreading Bebe going back to NYC. She didn't know if she could cope losing her best friend so soon after finding her.

 

 Kevin woke to the sound of a key in the lock. She froze, but relaxed when she recognized Mike's tread on the floor, the sound of his guitar case being gently lowered to the ground and his duffel tossed on the floor. She kept her eyes closed as he crept into the bedroom. "Kev, honey?" he whispered, creeping closer.  
  
She smiled as she felt his lips against the tip of her nose. "Hey, sleeping beauty," he whispered.  
  
She let her eyes flicker open. "Are you my prince?" she teased, earning herself a proper kiss.

 

 Kevin gets the text as she's getting off the L, and it damn near makes her stumble. She actually bursts out laughing in the middle of the platform as the follow up text arrives. She bites her lip to keep her giggles quiet, aware of the looks she was getting. "My boyfriend," she explains to the little old lady next to her, who was openly staring.  
  
"He makes you laugh?" she said in a husky voice. "Then trust me, he's a keeper."  
  
Kevin waited until she was on the bus that would take her home before replying. That was an autofail? Pity, I was looking forward to being stripped on arrival.  
  
She was laughing when Mike pounced on her as she came through the door and towed her into the bedroom.

 

 Afterwards, Kevin was too fucked out to do more than lie in the wreckage of the sheets and enjoy the afterglow. She ended up dozing, and woke to the smell of toast.  
  
Wrapping a sheet around her, she wandered out into the kitchen just as Mike was pouring tea out into her favourite china cup. There was toast on a plate, piled high with her homemade jams. Kevin kissed the back of Mike's neck before sitting down and pulling the plate towards her. "Hey, toast thief," Mike teased, even as he put fresh slices in the toaster.  
  
Kevin licked sweet jam off her lips, feeling utterly content.

 

They stumbled along the path, laughing and talking about nothing, both still a little buzzed from the show. Kevin let her free hand, the one not holding Mike's, soar lightly above the neatly clipped box hedge.  
  
"Wow, don't see telephone boxes much anymore, do you," Mike said, nodding at the square box, bright light spilling out of it onto the pavement.  
  
Kevin tugged on his hand and pulled him into the box, pushing him firmly against the scratched perspex walls. His hand was firm on her hip as they made out lazily, the light buzzing and clicking as the cool night air flowed in around them.

 

 Kevin wondered if it was the anniversary of the last time they had taken the bikes on the picnic, or if it was just the weather made Mike think of a bike ride in the sunshine. They cycled easily down the hill, through the twisting suburbs, heading for their favourite park near the lake. They paused, legs spread to keep their balance as they sat on their bikes, looking out over a small pond.  
  
When Kevin looked over, Mike was pulling a bouquet of her favourite flowers out of the picnic basket. "You shouldn't have," she said, dismounting and balancing the bike on its kickstand.  
  
Mike had propped his bike, heavy with its basket, against the rail. "Yes, I did." He took a deep breath and dropped to one knee.  
  
Kevin's heart stopped as the ring sparkled in the sunshine. "Yes," she said, before Mike even asked. "Yes, absolutely, yes." She laughed, pure joy bubbling out of her. “I promised, didn’t I?”

Being engaged was a lot like not being engaged, except that Mike's mom started doing this excited little clapping thing every time she saw Kevin. Later, what Kevin remembered most was the comfortable warmth, the bright sunny days, the way she and Mike would just walk and talk about anything and everything.  
  
They sat under a tree, swapping a guitar between them as they played for each other songs they had written, arms pressed together.  
  
Kevin didn't stop smiling all summer.


	5. Chapter 5

Kevin was chatting with Bebe, talking about her bachelorette party plans, when she saw Mike leaning over the table towards her drink. "Get your own chai, Carden."  
  
Tom laughed. "Uh uh, you're about to legally share everything, get used to it, Kev."  
  
But Mike wasn't stealing her latte. He was grinning as he sat back, recapping a pen.  
  
Kevin picked up her cup and turned it around until she saw his handiwork. "Dork," she told him.  
  
"You love me," he said airily, completely confident.  
  
Bebe craned to look, and squealed. "So adorable!" Everyone laughed. Mike shrugged. They really couldn't argue.

 

Kevin sat on the front step of their apartment, looking up at the sky. This close to the city, she couldn't really make out stars, but the moon was a strong presence in the sky.  
  
Audrey mewled as she headbutted Kevin's leg before climbing onto her lap. Kevin stroked her fur, thinking.  
  
Mike's sister hadn't meant anything by it. It was a fair question. "Will your father be walking you down the aisle?"  
  
Her father. Her mother's infrequent letters never mentioned her father, except as a character in her brothers' dramas. She didn't want him anywhere near her new life.  
  
But a part of her wished she did have the kind of father who'd be proud to walk her down the aisle.

 

The more Mike's family and their friends started to fuss, the more attractive eloping looked from where Kevin was sitting. She could see Mike feeling the pressure too, but they both tried to stick it out, mainly for the sake of his mother, who was just so excited and so honestly happy for them.  
  
But in the end, Kevin put her foot down. "We're going away for the weekend. When we come back, either have the wedding planned, or Mike and I are getting hitched at the registry office."  
  
They took his dad's car, picked a road, and drove away from it all.

 

There was always a camera around, and Kevin got used to having her picture snapped at any time, whether she be wearing Mike's shirt and a pair of panties, or fully dressed up for a night out on the town.  
  
She should have thought, should have realized, that sooner or later someone would put two and two together and connect those images to her brothers.  
  
Apparently it was a big story on the gossip news that night - Kevin didn't see the story, but Mike's mother did. Kevin’s bare legs, covered in ink, smiling at the camera, a drink in her hand and her skin sweaty from dancing, laughing as all the boys were kissing her cheeks and shoulders. Photographs of her doing all the kinds of the things her brothers were never caught doing.  
  
Kevin looked at the story online, not letting her eyes even graze the comments, and had no idea what to do.

 

Kevin had been skeptical, but everyone raved about this festival, and so Kevin let herself be bundled up along with a tent and taken out to the camping ground.  
  
Kevin wasn't a huge fan of camping, but this wasn't so bad. Mike's entire family was here, and his dad believed in camping with style, so it wasn't the sleeping-in-the-mud she remembered camping to be from old school trips. And the music festival was awesome, eclectic and interesting, so much so that Kevin found it hard to leave the main stage area for too long, in case she missed something.  
  
It helped that, if people recognized her from the pictures doing the rounds of the gossip mags, then they didn't say anything, or even stare too obviously.  
  
Then Tom called her up onto stage.  
  
Kevin froze, but Mike and his dad were pushing her up there, and Sean was shoving his acoustic into her hands. "Ladies and gents, give it up for Kevin soon-to-be Carden, who's gonna help us out on this bit."  
  
She'd jammed with the boys in their living room. That was miles away from being on stage, under the lights, everyone watching them expectantly.  
  
But Kevin was a performer at her core. She nodded at the boys and as one they started to play.

 

Kevin ran through the front door, slammed it behind her, and frowned at the puddles gathering beneath her feet. "MIKE!" she yelled. "Can you bring me a towel?"  
  
Rubbed dry, and in warm fleecy sweats and thick fluffy slippers, Kevin paused to look out the window at the torrential downpour before padding through to the kitchen. Something warm and delicious-smelling drew her over to the stove, where Mike was working.  
  
"Is that..?" she breathed.  
  
He handed her a fork. "Mom's original mac and cheese recipe."  
  
They ended up sharing the bowl, forks dueling for pieces of macaroni as they talked about their day. The combination of food and Mike warmed Kevin through to the bone.

Kevin sat cross-legged and considered her options. "Wakey wakey," she cooed. Mike groaned and curled into her, never fully waking.  
  
"Come on Mikey," she sing-songed. "Your second to last day as a free man. What are you going to do?"  
  
"Get drunk, go to Vegas, and spend my winnings on drugs and whores," Mike teased, lips curling up even as his eyes never opened.  
  
Kevin giggled, her fingers dancing along his ribcage.  
  
Their second-to-last day before becoming husband and wife started with a pillow fight. Kevin hoped this was going to become a tradition.

 

Kevin sat on Pete's balcony and tried to remember how to breathe. She didn't turn around as she heard the sliding door open. "Hey, girl," Bebe said softly. Kevin opened her eyes at the clink of a glass being placed on the small table.  
  
Kevin exhaled shakily. "Thanks," she said, mouth dry.  
  
Bebe considered her for a moment, then pulled her up into a hug. "The paparazzi won't find the venue, there will be no disasters beyond the little ones everyone gets and laughs over later, the speeches will be embarrassing and your first dance together as husband and wife will make you both a bit weepy," she promised, whispering into Kevin's ear. "Have I missed anything?"  
  
Kevin shook her head and held on tight.

 

Kevin walked through getting ready as if in a dream, trusting Bebe and Mike's little sister not to steer her wrong.  
  
She woke from her daze staring at someone she almost didn't recognize in the reflection. She tilted her head, and the glittery powder caught the light, making her sparkle and shine. Her hair, normally an untamable mane, had been curled and braided into submission, leaving her neck and shoulders bare down to the simple, fitted bodice, which in turn gave way to the sweeping skirt that had been part of Mike's grandmother's wedding dress.  
  
"Something old," Bebe said, pointing to the train. "Something new," she said, tapping the light corsetry of the top half of the dress. "Something borrowed," she continued, sliding the hooks of two long drops of pearl earrings into each of Kevin's earlobes. "And something blue," she finished, holding up a beautiful, antique-looking hairclip before sliding it into her hair and clipping it in place. Bebe air kissed her cheek, careful not to smudge anything. "Now, girl, go get married."

 

Kevin had already been a bit overemotional by the reception, and when Mike's mom and dad had presented them with their gift, a full proper honeymoon in Hawaii, Kevin had burst into tears.  
  
She couldn't imagine how to repay this. She floated in the warm water over to where Mike was bobbing, letting the slight swell carry him along. She loved the feel of slick skin touching skin as she let herself wash up against him. "Remind me to say thank you a million times to your folks," she said, kissing him lazily before the next little wave broke them apart.  
  
"I'll be right there saying thanks with you," he promised, catching her hand before she washed too far away. They stayed in the water, watching the sun fall towards sea, totally relaxed and carefree.

Waking up back in their apartment in Chicago was like returning to a different world. Everything was as they left it, Audrey was both purring at them and ignoring them in the way of cats everywhere, and nothing much had changed.  
  
But they had changed.  
  
Kevin sat on the bed and studied the rings on her finger before looking out the window at the scraggly weeds growing out of the crack in the concrete.  
  
She smiled as she heard Mike humming as he puttered around the kitchen. Time to start the rest of their lives together.

 

If Kevin had any fears that marriage would make them stale, she soon lost them. Being married, if anything, made Mike even more free with his stupid, affectionate gestures. They still rode their bikes to the park, and spent hours browsing used bookstores and thrift stores, and filled their evenings playing guitars or reading or chasing Audrey around with a feather or a piece of string.  
  
Every day, every little note tacked to her mirror or song she finished, Kevin felt a little bit happier, until she thought she might burst with it all.

The seasons changed. Mike formed a new band, and got a job with Pete at his fledgling label too. Kevin knitted and got good at making preserves, and spotted a sign at her favourite bookstore saying 'help wanted,' and finally got to tell her old boss how much of a bastard he was as she collected her last pay packet and walked out to the applause of her old workmates.  
  
Their collection of old, mismatched china grew, alongside the number of guitars they both owned. Kevin swallowed her nerves and booked herself into a slot at open mic night, and nearly everyone she knew came and filled out the audience and applauded and cheered her on.  
  
They still hung out with their friends, and Tom took their photograph, and they kissed each other hello every morning and goodnight every evening.  
  
It had been a long time since her mother's last letter. So much had happened, that this time, when she slit open the envelope and the pages filled with once-familiar handwriting tumbled out, Kevin didn't feel like she'd been stabbed in the heart. She just felt...vaguely sad.  
  
She read the letters carefully, for once seeing what wasn't being said. Mike came home, and kissed her head, pausing as he saw what she was reading. Kevin smiled, kissed him back, made herself a fresh cup of coffee, and started to compose a reply.

It was raining in summer, the water warm as it spilled across the concrete. Kevin came out of the apartment to find Mike and the guys already outside, racing around in the rain, yelling and jumping like they were little boys again.  
  
Mike turned, and Kevin felt her heart stutter at the way he smiled when he saw her. She stepped out, turning her face up to feel the warm raindrops fall on her face, run down her throat.  
  
Mike held his arms out for her as she approached. "Where have you been? I've been saving a rain dance for you."  
  
Kevin licked her lips, tasting the rain as she rested her hands on his shoulders and pushed up onto her toes to kiss him. "I was re-checking something." She kissed him again, smiling at his slight expression of concern. "I need to go double-check at the clinic, but the little positive sign on the stick was pretty clear."  
  
Mike blinked. Kevin nodded. Mike spun her around in a dizzying hug and whooped at the sky.  
  
/END


End file.
